Come to Me
by PhantomTwilighter2009
Summary: A small mistake brings two unlikely people together. Just a small two-shot.
1. Song of Childhood

**This is just a little random Phantom Phan Phic story that I decided to write. Actually, I wrote it during Algebra this afternoon...whatever. As long as I'm not failing, everything is right with the world! Enjoy!**

**Come To Me**

"Give me my mask back, Christine!" the Phantom demanded; his hand shaking from not only rage, but sadness and disappointment. All he ever wanted was for Christine to love him, just like any other man. But instead, she tore his mask off as soon as she got the chance!

Christine sat on the cold, stone floor, trembling from the display of anger that her Angel had displayed. She hadn't meant to hurt him in such a way! She just wanted to see the man who she had...fallen in love with? Was it a sin to fall in love with an angel?

No, he wasn't an Angel; he was a man. A man who seemed to have never known kindness or love. But hadn't he raged at her? Didn't he damn her and knock her on the ground?

Clutching the mask tightly to her chest, Christine inched closer and closer to the shaking man, but he seemed to have different plans. He kept backing away from _her_. Had she been so cruel to him that he couldn't stand her anymore?

"Angel, I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you like this. Please, forgive me." she whispered. Before the Phantom could respond, Christine dissolved into a pile of white lace and tears.

He truly did not expect this reaction out of her; he expected her to run from him, to slap him, or something similar to that. Those were the kinds of reactions he was used to and didn't bother him anymore, but this was definitely new.

Hugging her knees to her chest, Christine held his mask even closer to her slim, petite body. She could smell something wonderful coming from the mask. Was it his cologne? Roses? Who cared though? He definitely didn't! "Forgive me." she breathed one last time before she fainted. Catching her with ease, the Phantom slowly rose from his seat on the floor and walked into her bedroom.

She looked so tiny, immersed in the red silk and plush pillows. He then noticed that she still clung to his mask; almost as if the mask was the one forgiving her and not him, not the monster. Reaching down to take the piece of porcelain from her, Christine's eyes opened wide, tears still shining brightly in those beautiful brown circles.

"Angel?" she whispered hopefully. Had he forgiven her? No, he couldn't have! She had only fainted a few moments ago. Definitely not enough time for a tortured and lonely man to forgive someone. Sitting up, Christine looked up into his eyes. They were gold, but one was darker and richer, like honey, than the other, which resembled the color of the actual metal. "You have gorgeous eyes." She saw the Angel stiffen at her remark and noticed that she had just said her thoughts out loud. Very unladylike.

Did she just compliment him? He had his mask on, didn't he? For no one had told him that he was handsome unless he had his mask on, hiding his ugliness.

"Don't mess with me, my dear," he spat sarcastically, nearly laughing as Christine flinched, "I don't want your pity. I'll accept your screams of terror, of hate, but pity, in my eyes, is no better than the scum that clings to my walls. Now give me my mask back."

Seeing the pained look in his eyes, Christine nearly gave in, but she couldn't. She wouldn't!

"No, Angel." she whimpered, preparing herself for another blow from his rage. Which came nearly on cue.

"How dare you! Do you wish for me to leave you completely?! I was only going to punish you for a few days, but I think my mind has changed. If you don't give me back my mask, you'll never hear your 'Angel's' voice again!"

Christine curled up into a defensive little ball, yet, his words still stung. "Please stop. I don't like it when you yell." whimpering, Christine tightened her grip on the mask, if that was possible.

Rage. Rage was the only emotion the Phantom could feel towards the tiny woman in the bed.

"Then give me back the only thing that makes me human! That makes me _feel_ human, Christine!"

"Your face isn't that bad." she whispered. Turns out that was the biggest mistake besides taking off the Angel's mask. But, before the Phantom could even begin to yell and rage at her, she began to sing,

_Pas de trendesse_

_Et pas de joie_

_Loin d'ici_

_Loin de toi_

_Rien de plus triste_

_Que me soupirs_

_Lorsque vient le jour_

_Où il me faut parir_

_Chanson d'enfance_

_Tu vis toujours dans mon coeur_

_Toi la plus douce_

_Toi la plus tendre_

_C'est la chanson_

_Qui dit toujours_

_Dans don esprit_

_Je vis toujours_

_C'est la chanson_

_Qui dit toujours_

_Dans ton esprit_

_Je vis toujours_

_Chanson d'enfance_

_Tu vis toujours dans mon coeur_

_Toi, la plus douce_

_Toi, la plue tendre_

_C'est la chanson_

_Qui dit toujours_

_Dans ton esprit_

_Je vis toujours  
_

Her voice was as beautiful as ever, yet, the Phantom could not hold back his tears at the tender song she sang for him. All of his earlier anger had slowly trickled out of his system during her song. It was a simple song. A simple song about childhood and how hard it can be to grow up and leave it all behind. He, though, never had a childhood. He had to go from a baby to a full grown adult if he wanted to survive. His Angel had to do the same thing, too. She was only 6 when her Father died, she had to grow up so fast in order to live in the opera house.

Christine saw the tears silently fall down her Angel's cheeks. Why was he crying? Did she sing something wrong? It was just an old lullaby her Papa had taught her when she was very young. Had he never been sung a lullaby before. Didn't his Mother ever sing to him as a child?

"Angel, come to me." Christine whispered softly; her slender arms outstretched. He shook his head frantically, afraid that this was some elaborate trick and he would ultimately be hurt in the end.

"Please, Angel. I'm not afraid. Come here and I'll show you that your face does not bother me." she tried again, this time, a smile on her lovely face.

"You seemed to react differently when you first tore of my mask." the Phantom's voice rasped from the tears. She would hurt him again. She would probably laugh at him once he settled into her arms; thinking him to be the weak and pathetic monster that he was.

Or her offer could be genuine. Maybe Christine did want to hold him. Maybe she did want to comfort her fallen Angel. Looking into her eyes, the Phantom saw nothing but compassion in her big brown eyes. Perhaps he could trust her.

Praying to the God that he never truly believed in, the dreaded Phantom of the Opera sank into the petite ballerina's arms and cried. He cried for all of the cruel and ugly things that had happened to him in his lifetime. The Gypsy camp. Giovanni's home. Persia. His mother; it all came pouring out, soaking his Angel's silky white nightgown.

Christine rocked her Teacher back and forth, comforting him like a small child.

"I'm here, Angel. I'm here and I'm not leaving. I love you, Angel." she whispered into his deformed ear, kissing it softly. Letting out a soft cry, he wrapped his arms around her slim middle; squeezing it slightly to let her know that all he wanted was to stay there with her.

She had said those words. Those three words that he had been denied his whole life of hearing.

"Thank you, Christine."

Neither of them knew how long they sat there or how long they talked. The only thing that the Phantom and his Angel cared about was each other; Raoul never once crossing their mind.

^.^

"Papa! Papa!" a little girl shouted; her brown girls bouncing with every step.

The Phantom, or Erik as he called himself now, smiled as he watched his child run up the steep hill.

"What is it, Dominique, darling?" he laughed, scooping the 3 year-old up into his arms. She was the spitting image of her Mother; her brown curly hair, petite body, a quiet, but powerful, voice, and her little face held Christine's sweet smile. The only thing that showed Erik that she was indeed his child was that she had his mismatched golden eyes. He thanked God everyday that his precious daughter wasn't born with his deformity, which the child seemed to love. "It makes my Papa unique!" she would shyly tell people when the commented on the patches of bumpy, red skin.

"Maman is outside, Papa!" she exclaimed happily, touching his deformed, uncovered cheek.. Erik felt his face fall at this. Christine had fallen ill just weeks after Dominique's birth and the docteur's told her that she only had a couple months. Erik did everything in his power to make his wife of 6 years comfortable, yet everyday a bit more of her slipped away from him.

She survived the illness, but she remained incredibly weak, which confined her to only the garden and the small house he had purchased for them when they were first married. Docteurs told the family many times that if Christine exerted herself, she would more than likely relapse and not survive a second blow from the illness.

"Can you tell me where you saw Maman, little one?"

Dominique pointed with her long, musical finger to the front of the house.

"Thank you, my dear. Go play and I'll be right back."

"Can I play with Maman?" her voice pleaded. She was so close to her Maman. Erik always thought it was because the whole time that Christine was sick, so was Dominique. There also seemed to be an invisible connection between the two. When Dominique had scrapped her knee against a tree she was climbing up, Christine complained about her knee hurting and burning. Or when Christine once hurt her back from the minimal cleaning that she did, Dominique's back was sore for the whole week.

Erik desperately wanted to tell his girl yes, but he had to see what Christine was doing out in the front yard.

"I'm sorry, Niquie, but I need to talk to Maman alone for just a few minutes. After I'm finished, you can play with her all you want."

"Okay. Promise?" she held out her pinky for her version of an unbreakable promise.

Wrapping his larger pinky around Dominique's delicate one, he swore that her and her Maman could play after he was done talking to her. Making sure that his daughter was in a safe area to play, Erik walked, ran is actually a better word, to where Christine was supposed to be. And indeed she was there.

She was looking off into the distance, not really paying attention to any one thing. Her chestnut curls swayed in the slight breeze and she looked paler than usual.  
"Christine, what are you doing out here?" Erik asked, sitting next to her on the stone bench that sat outside their door.

Christine jumped at the sound of her name, not expecting her wonderful husband to appear out of nowhere.

"I swear, Erik, that one day you will terrify me so badly that I'll have a heart attack!" she laughed, but the small smile that had graced her lips fell as she grew serious, "The reason why I'm out here is because I was looking for you."

"What is it, mon ange? Tell me what's wrong." he asked, taking her pretty little hand into his. She looked so worried. About what though? She was always so carefree and happy.

Sighing heavily, her lips tugged at the corners as she looked into her Erik's beautiful golden eyes, "We may need a bigger house."

A confused look spread across Erik's features, "Why a bigger house?"

Christine's bell-like laughter rang throughout the garden. "Because, darling, we're expecting another Angel." Christine was nearly jumping with excitement. She had only just found out last week when she had her monthly cheek up. Her docteur told her that the pregnancy would be a difficult one, considering her history, but if all went well, her and the baby would be healthy.

Erik felt like someone had hit him with a ton of bricks. A baby? A child? Could Christine become sick again? Would she have a miscarriage, like the several that have happened before?

"How did you find out?"

"The docteur told me last week." she beamed. Looking at his wife with this new knowledge, he noticed that she practically glowed, her eyes gleamed, and her stomach was a bit more...rounded out than usual.

"Are you going to be okay?" he had to know. If she said that the baby would live and that she would die, he would be forced to do the unthinkable to her.

"According to 3 different docteurs, the baby and I are going to be perfectly alright."

"How far along are you?"

"3 months. Just think, in a few months, we'll have another little singer running through the house." Christine sighed happily. He seemed to have taken the news well. That was a good thing. When she had told him that she was pregnant with Dominique, he nearly fainted! If the situation hadn't been so serious, it would've been comical.

Thinking about it, Erik had definitely come a long way since their first encounter at the opera house. His temper nearly got Christine killed a few times along with her trembling in fright. Yet, she never ran from him. She was always there to comfort and calm her Erik, which usually made him burst into tears. He had told her long ago about her childhood, so it all made sense to her why he would cry every time she would touch him with kindness.

Slowly, his temper diminished, but his biggest change was when Dominique was born. Holding the tiny, squirming bundle in his arms, Christine saw a permanent change in him; his whole body seemed to become lighter. Almost as if the weight of the world had been taken off of him.

Smiling, Erik was thinking about how much his Christine had changed during the 6 years of their blissful marriage. She used to always be so quiet, so timid. Probably because of him; his temper shot out at her whenever she did something that he didn't approve of, which was pretty much everything she did. But now, she was a strong, well-spoken woman who had learned to love the vicious monster he was.

Then, a small pair of footsteps broke the two lovers out of their thoughts.

"Maman!" Dominique squealed and nearly jumped into Christine's lap.

"Niquie!" she laughed. How she loved her daughter. She was so afraid that she would never get to see her grow up, see her get married and see her grandchildren. Now, she had nothing to fear; she was healthy, somewhat, and was going to get to see all of the wonderful things, along with the child that was growing inside her.

Erik smiled proudly his family. He had dared to dream about Christine loving him, but he never allowed himself to dream of a family. And here they all are. Taking Dominique into his lap, being ever mindful of his wife's delicate condition, and was as giddy as a school boy to tell his child the good news.

"Nique, dear, you know how you always wanted to have a little brother or sister?"

She nodded her head excitedly; like she knew exactly what her Maman and Papa were going to tell her!

"Well, darling, in a few short months, you'll get your wish." Christine finished. The girl's face light up with joy. A baby! She was going to be a big sister!

"Really? I get to be a big sister?"

"Yes, you do. Are you going to help Maman around the house more often?" Erik asked. The last thing he wanted was Christine working while she was with child; she could possibly get sick again or have yet another miscarriage.

"I promise, Papa! Maman, can I help pick out the name? Can I, please?" she begged in the only way Dominique could. She knew that when she used this tone of voice on her parents, they gave into anything!

Rolling her eyes, Christine gave a small kiss on Dominique's cheek, "Of course. Now, go wash up. Lunch will be ready in a few minutes."

Giggling, Dominique leaped off her Papa's lap with a ballerina's grace, making sure to give her Maman and Papa a kiss before she kissed Christine's tummy.

"I can't wait!" she whispered and ran into the house.

"She's just a ball of energy." Erik sighed, hugging Christine around her waist. She didn't reply, which made Erik worry. If she didn't reply to something, that meant she was tired or was coming down with something. "Are you feeling alright, mon ange?"

"Just tired, love. This pregnancy is going to be hard." she finally replied softly; her voice sounding sweet and light. Christine had only closed her eyes for a second, not meaning to fall asleep like that. Before she could open her eyes, two strong arms lifted her feather weight body.

"Erik!" she squeaked. He hadn't picked her up like this in a while; it meant that he was in a very good mood...

"Go to sleep, my Christine. I'll make lunch for Dominique and I. All you have to worry about is you and our baby." he whispered into her ear; his voice putting her to sleep instantly. Walking into the quaint house, Erik walked to their bedroom and gingerly set her onto the bed.

He sat there for awhile, stroking her brown curls. How had he been so lucky to get her? How could such a man, who had been a demon for most of his life, deserve such a woman like Christine?

Leaning down, Erik trailed light kisses from her lips up to her ear, saying,

"I love you, Angel."

**I should have the epilogue posted tomorrow or something like that. I'm not very impressed with it, but it mainly consists of fluff and very little, if any, angst in there. I hope you enjoyed it and I know that Erik will give you a hug if you review! Reviews keep Erik safe and sane, but that's a boring Erik...still, review, please!**

**^.^**


	2. Angel of Music, Please Don't Leave Me

**Thank you all very much for the awesome reviews I got! The criticism is much appreciated. I just want to say that I've gotten into the habit of saying 'docteur' instead of 'doctor' because...well, just because. It's just one of my odd little habits that I have when I write. I'm not changing my style of writing for this story since I've already started it out like this, but I'll definitely apply it to my other stories. So, here you people go, Chapter 2! Enjoy!**

**Come to Me**

Christine had been right about the pregnancy being difficult. She fell ill several times during her 6 months, but the worst was when she found out that she had cancer. The docteur wasn't sure what kind it was. All they knew was that the baby was going to be fine, because she was nearly done with her pregnancy, she was just starting her 9th month, and the cancer hadn't spread enough to harm the baby. Erik didn't want to believe the docteur when he was told that his wife was going to slowly waste away and probably die in pain. He begged the man to do something, anything, to save his Christine, but the only thing that the docteur told him was to make sure she was well taken care of and prepare a guest room for an in-home nurse.

Christine couldn't believe it either; her body was going to turn it's back on her, letting the disease spread like deadly mold. She was grateful that her child was going to be okay, but she or Erik didn't know how to tell Dominique that her loving Maman was going to die. Finally, they both decided that it would be easier if Christine told her, for she was closer to Dominique than anyone else.

"Niquie, you know I'm very sick, right?" she asked gently, hoping that she wouldn't break down in front of her daughter, that was the last thing that the little girl needed to see.

"Yup, but Papa told me that you were feeling better? Did Papa lie?" Dominique whimpered. Now that she looked, she noticed that her Maman was thinner, despite her big tummy, and she seemed to be more tired than usual. Christine looked into Dominique's mismatched golden eyes, the same eyes as her husband's. _God, give me courage to tell her. Let me tell her she will not be alone._

"Papa would never lie to you, my darling, but I'm not as well as I used to be. You see, Niquie, Maman has a special illness. In a few months, I won't have enough strength to play with you. I will get very sick and very scary looking as later on, but you must not be afraid, my little angel." Christine tried to explain. How do you explain to a 3 year-old that her maman, her best friend, was dying from the inside out?

Tears welled in Dominique's eyes as she let her maman's words sink in. She was going to get really sick? She wouldn't be the pretty woman she had grown so used to seeing every day? "But, Maman, I don't want you to get sick! I want you to stay pretty, too! I want you to be able to play with me and my new sister or brother." she cried.

"I know, darling, I know. maman doesn't want this to happen either. But, you must be strong, Angel. You must help Papa take care of the baby and you must take care of each other." Christine smiled sadly , stroking Dominique's brown curls; just like how Erik stroked her's. Little sobs racked Dominique's body. She didn't want her maman to go! She didn't want to have to look after anybody! All she wanted was her maman to get better so they could take care of Papa and the baby together.

"Shh, shh. Don't cry yet, Niquie. I'm going to be here for a while longer, but I'll never truly be gone." Christine cooed softly. She hated to see her baby girl cry; it tore her apart. The only thing worse than Dominique crying was when Erik cried during the night when he thinks she's asleep. _Why me, God? Why? Why my family? They've never done anything wrong! Please, help me to stay strong, even when I don't have the strength to do so._

Mother and daughter stayed like that for hours; Christine giving her child comfort while Dominique released all of her sadness. Erik had stood out on the balcony the whole time, listening to the conversation between the two. Tears wet his own face as reality finally sunk in; he would have to care for both Dominique and the baby. The baby who would grow up never knowing it's beautiful, wonderful mother.

^.^

"You're doing wonderful, my dear. Just keep pushing like the docteur said to." Erik encouraged Christine. The cancer had spread faster than anyone had ever expected, so she was now weak beyond reason.

"I can't, Erik! I just want to sleep!" she sobbed; her poor, sick body was giving up. Even if she lived through the birth, she knew she would never get to lay eyes on her child. She felt so tired. If only she could sleep, she could finish giving birth.

Erik held his wife's small hand tightly; his tears falling unabashedly down his face. He wished he could give his angel the dose of morphine that her body was craving to stop the pain, but it would more than likely hurt her more than help her. Lately, the pain medication had been doing absolutely nothing to dull down the pain of the disease and the docteur told him to slowly overdose her when it was no longer doing it's job. "Trust me, Monsieur, your wife will die in a painless sleep." But, Erik couldn't find it in himself to do such a thing to her; it was bad enough that she was dying. She didn't need to be drugged in order to die.

"I promise, mon ange, that you can sleep as long as you want when you're done, but please, Christine, please do this for me. For our child. For Dominique."

"Tell me more about Dominique. How is she?" Christine asked as the pain dulled a little. She hadn't seen her daughter in weeks. She didn't want her daughter's last memory of her Maman being frail and skeleton-like.

"She misses you very much, darling; she tells me that she wants to see you again, even if you aren't 'pretty' anymore." Erik told her. Christine's beauty began to diminish during the month; her cheekbones had become more protruded due to losing so much weight in such little time, her cheeks were hollow and pale, and her luxurious curls were now nothing but limp locks of hair. Yet, no matter how horrible she looked, Erik loved her more than anything else in the world.

"That's wonderful. Erik, please, stay with me." Christine whimpered as pain shot across her stomach once again. She again had to wonder why she was the one with the cancer! Why she was the one dying when she had a family to care for! Pushing, she felt as if she was going to explode! And then, a small cry rang throughout the room.

Smiling at the couple, the docteur announced to them, "It's a boy."

A boy! A little baby boy! Christine wanted to cry, but all of her strength was gone to do so. Instead she looked up into Erik's misting eyes, pleading with him silently for her to hold their child before she left. Erik nodded at her request, he got up and followed the docteur over to the table, where he was cleaning up the crying boy.

"Monsieur, please, let my wife hold our child. She...she just wants to hold him once."

"Of course, Monsieur. I'm so sorry. I just wish I could have done more for her." the docteur apologized, tears of his own forming in his eyes. He had known the couple for 7 years and had grown rather attached to the family.

"You've done everything you could. I must thank you for keeping my Christine with me when all the others gave up on her." Erik sighed, cradling his boy. He was handsome; he had curly black hair, Christine's brown eyes, and his slightly tan skin. Slowly walking back over to his angel, he gasped at what he saw. She was looking right at him, her big brown eyes held excitement which he hadn't seen since she fell ill.

"Erik, let me see him." she asked; her voice was hoarse, but it still held the angelic quality that Erik loved so much. Quickly coming to her side, he sat next to her as Christine took the squirming boy out of Erik's arms.

"He's so perfect, Angel. He looks like you." she smiled happily, "Hello, little one."

Erik couldn't help but smile as the baby cooed sweetly up at his mother. For an instant, he was transported back to the day Dominique was born; Christine was healthy, if a bit tired, and crying her heart out over the joy of having a little girl.

"He is, mon belle. What do you wish to name him?" Christine had every right to name the baby. But, before she could say anything, Dominique burst into the bedroom, tears covering her rosy cheeks.

"Maman!" she cried, crawling onto the bed and burying her curly head into Christine's thin chest. How she had missed her maman! Despite what all the mean nurses said about her maman looking ugly, Dominique looked up at her and smiled warmly. She was still the same pretty woman who she loved dearly. Remembering why she ran in here, she looked at the moving bundle in Christine's arms. "Is that my little brother?"

"Yes, Niquie. Do you want to help us name him?" Christine asked weakly. She was so tired, but was overjoyed to see her oldest child looking at her with love; she had expected her to sob at the sight of what her maman had become. Yet, she was proven wrong. _Now I know how Erik must have felt when I first looked at him. Terrified of rejection._

"Yes! Papa can help us, too!" she giggled, holding her papa's fingers with her delicate hand.

"Papa can help." Christine sighed and fell into deep thought. What would be the perfect name for her son? John? Peter? Jacob? Then, the name hit her!

"Charles!" both her and Dominique cried out. Laughing, Christine looked up to see Erik nod in approval; his eyes sparkling. "How about you pick out the middle name, Angel. Dominique and I already have picked out the first name."

"Gustave." he answered without a moment of hesitation. It was a fitting middle name for his baby boy; it was Christine's father's name.

"Thank you, Erik. He would very much appreciate that." Christine whispered. Erik could tell that his wife was slipping away from him, so, he quietly told Dominique that it was time to say good-bye to Maman. Tears formed once more in the tiny, golden eyes, but she confidently held her head high as she talked to her maman for the last time.

"I love you, Maman. I'll miss you so much!"

"I will to, Niquie. Do you remember what I told a while ago, about me never leaving you?"

"Yes."

"I'm not lying. I'll always be with you and little Charles Gustave. I love you, my Dominique." Christine whispered and kissed her daughter for the last time. Fresh pain was coursing through her body, but she wouldn't let the little girl see it. "Darling, may I have some alone time with Papa? I promise that you'll see me again."

"Alright, Maman. I love you." Dominique said, giving her parents a loving, watery smile, and ran out of the room.

Erik knew that this day would ultimately come, but he never wanted to believe that it would be so quick. Stroking her hair, he kissed her forehead with all of the love and compassion that he could muster. "I love you, Christine. I have loved you as a teacher, as a friend, and as a husband."

"I love you, too, mon ange. You've truly been my Angel of Music." she smiled, but it turned into a grimace from the blinding pain. She didn't want to leave yet! There was so much she wanted to see and do with her family! Her _family_!

Erik panicked; she was leaving him behind. She had been his world since she was a child. How could a kind, loving God be so sick and twisted as to let her die like this? She had been a true Angel on Earth, sharing her warmth with even the lowest of human beings. If someone had told him nearly 7 years ago that he was going to be married to a beautiful woman and have two wonderful children, he would've thought them to b insane! But now that he had tasted heaven in all its glory, he didn't want to give it up.

Christine had to comfort her Erik somehow. She couldn't die and leave him to weep over her. Putting a feathery kiss to Charles' forehead, she began to sing,

_My father once spoke of you, my Angel._

_I used to dream you'd appear._

_Now as I sing, I beg you,_

_Please don't mourn._

Erik finally gave into his tears as he watched Christine sing one last time; her voice sounded like it did the night of her debut. "I love you." he rasped out as she drew her final breathes.

"I love you, Angel."

It was over now.

Their music of the night.

**Omg, I'm almost crying! I hate having to kill someone off *fans face to hold back tears*. For those who have read my story, Memories, you know that my Great Gram past away about a month ago and this is another dedication chapter to her, but this time Christine is the one with the cancer. It just felt right, writing another chapter for her. As mushy as it may sound, it was pretty much her working through me to write this. Now that the sweet part is over, I lied about this chapter being the Epilogue, but it is definitely going be next chapter! Reviews will soothe Erik! **

**^.^**


	3. You've Finally Let Me Go

**Happy Halloween! Thank you all for reviewing! It means a lot to me and there are just 2 more chapters, I promise! I could make this into a whole story, if you people wished, but I think that I'll keep it simple and clean. Well, as clean as my writing gets. ^.^ I hated having to kill Christine, but in some twisted way, it felt right. I don't hate Christine! Oh God no! It's like...read Love's Music; it's all in there. So, here is Chapter 3! Enjoy! Oh, this chapter is going to be told from Erik's point of view. Just in case there is some confusion!**

**Come to Me**

I watch my children sleep in my bed; Charles had another nightmare and he insisted that all three of us sleep together, which doesn't bother me. Even though I'm nearly falling off the bed, Dominique's knees are in my stomach, and Charles won't stop moving, their comfort comes first.

I stroke my daughter's brown, curly hair, thinking about the morning and what I was to teach the two of them. No doubt Dominique, being the musical genius she is, will no doubt want me to teach her more on her grandfather's violin. For only being 10, she knows piano, the basics of the violin, and a little singing, which I'll have to continue teaching her, and is learning ballet, which she has been learning from her Auntie Meg.

Charles will probably want me to teach him Persian. Like his older sister, his learning skills pass any 7 year-old; he knows basic mathematics, his native French, Swedish, English, and is now taking piano lessons from Dominique. His brown eyes are always pleading for something new to learn! In a matter of a few years, he will asking me about architecture or something complicated like it.

My children both have dreams that are very large; for Charles, he tells me that, so far, he wants to become a teacher at a university or become a famous pianist. Dominique wants to be a beautiful ballerina, but if that doesn't work out, she wants to become the Prima Donna of the opera, just like her mother.

Their mother. How I miss her. What had happened that night didn't register in my mind until the docteur told me he was sorry and handed me a little bundle that was my son. After that, there is a 6 month gap that I can't remember, probably in a drugged, or alcohol, induced state. It hurts to imagine Dominique had to go through, trying to raise Charles, but still wanting to be the 3 year-old girl she was. She told me that I never left the room, but when I did, I did nothing but yell at them over the most ridiculous reasons. One time, she tells me, that I nearly flung her across the room because she couldn't calm Charles down. Or when she came into my study and asked me if I needed anything, I slammed the door on her face and refused to come out for weeks.

When I came out of my depression, or whatever it is you wish to call it, I began to spend more and more time with my children. Dominique was very wary of me, always afraid that I would grab her roughly again or hurt her.

"I don't want you touching me, Papa." she told once when I leaned down to give her a simple kiss on her pale forehead, "I don't want to hurt again." It tore me up inside to hear such cold, hard words coming out of such an innocent mouth, but I did as she asked.  
With time, she allowed me to touch her, but only a little; hugs and kisses were the only things she allowed. I sought comfort in my gurgling boy. He wouldn't remember the cruelty that I had done to him and his sister. He would grow up as if nothing happened.

But, the past is the past. Dominique now has complete and utter trust in me again and Charles doesn't know a thing about what happened between me and his sister. Hopefully he will never have to know.

Now, as I look around the room that I had once shared with an angel, I'm restless. This is definitely an odd thing, considering the fact that it is around midnight and both of my angels are sleeping, but I can't help it. I have to get out of here, if only for a few minutes.

Getting up out of the bed as quietly as possible, I quickly dressed, kissed Charles and Dominique, and headed for the door, yet, I was stopped by the sound of my son's voice.

"Papa, where are you going?" he asked; his usually clear, strong voice was hoarse and quieted with sleep. His disheveled black hair stuck out at all sides, his small fists were trying to rub the sleep out of his brown eyes.

"I'm just going out to the garden, Charles. Papa can't seem to sleep." I answered with a sigh. I learned long ago that I couldn't lie to him; he reminded me so much of Christine when he got angry. He would pout for hours, but eventually give in with a smile and laughter. Giving me a questioning look, he got out of bed and clung to my cloak.

"Can I come? I want to talk to Maman too." he asked sleepily. How did he know that was what I was planning to do? You see, I have a spot in the rose garden where I 'talk' to my wife, but I had never told the children where it was. Charles probably found it while he was playing. He has always liked roses, especially the red ones that I tie with a black ribbon for Christine when I go visit her grave.

I looked over at Dominique; her curls are splayed out all over the pillow, her breathing deep and even. Meaning that she shouldn't wake for hours. Just like her mother, she is a hard sleeper. Looking back at Charles, his eyes were wide open and alert; how could I say no?

"You may, but hurry and get dressed; it's cold outside and Maman will surely not be happy if you catch a cold." I smiled as his eyes lite up, "I'll meet you outside."

"Thank you! I love you, Papa." he whispered excitedly, jumping up and down. I cringed when I heard Dominique mutter something in her sleep, but she quieted, falling back into her dreams. I pushed Charles towards his room and made my way outside. The night air was indeed cool, yet it was refreshing. I swear, I keep myself cooped up inside my study too long. The moon cast a mysterious light on everything, making the most simple thing extraordinary. There was also an eerie calm that covered the grounds of the garden that made every little noise sound ten times bigger.

Then, the roses came into view; they were magnificent to look at. It was almost as if some heavenly being had put a spell on them to make them even more beautiful than usual. Sitting on the wooden bench that sat in the middle, I began to converse with the air.

"My Christine, I know it is late and I know that I should be getting some rest, but I had to come out here and talk with you. I've been thinking about how much the children have been learning, how I reacted to your death, how they reacted to your death, and how cruel I was to them. You saw what had happened during those awful months, you have every right to never forgive me, but I hope you do. I'm glad that those memories are fading for our Dominique and that they weren't there to begin with for our Charles. What a dark subject to start on, especially when I'm talking to you, my darling." the only reply I received was the rustling of trees as a breeze passed. "They are both such intelligent children. Dominique is begging me to teach her your native Swedish, like Charles, and more violin lessons, but I wish to continue with her singing lessons. I pray that she can reach her dream, just like you did. I know you'll help our darling girl.

Charles, on the other hand, is begging for more Persian lessons. I told you how many languages the boy knows, right? He is also receiving piano lessons from his sister; she is patient, but can snap at the poor child. He wishes to become a pianist, my dear. And, like Dominique, I know you'll help him with whatever problems he may encounter.

You told me, before you passed, that I shouldn't cry over your death, but there are some days that I can't help but cry. You were my light, mon ange. I love you more than life itself. I hope that you are proud of all the things I have done as a father and as a mourning husband. Charles should be out here soon to talk to you, my love. Rest in peace, Christine. I love you." I whispered as I concluded. Tears were rolling down my cheeks and I begged God that my son wouldn't come out yet, I couldn't let him see me like this.

There was rustling coming from behind me, but I barely paid attention; it's probably an animal anyway. Yet, something told me to turn around and see what was making the noise, the noise that was interrupting my time with Christine. Turning around, my jaw nearly dropped to the ground. She is here. My angel.

Christine is standing here in front of me; she is the epitome of beauty. Her curly hair is the same chestnut color that I so fondly remember, her pale skin nearly matched the moon, and her big brown eyes match the smile she is giving me.

"Erik, darling." she whispered; her voice is as gorgeous as I remembered.

"Christine?" I asked hesitantly; it more than likely be a sick joke my mind is playing on me for everything I have done. Giggling, she nodded as she picked a rose, making it transparent, like her.

"I've forgiven you." she whispered again; her breath tickling my ear. Tears yet again filled my eyes as I looked up to see her face so close to my deformed one.

"Sing." I breathed. I was secretly praying that this was real, that this wasn't a made up fantasy to help me find comfort, but her voice rang out through the garden,

_You have shared with me one love, one lifetime._

_You have led me from my solitude._

_Say you'll stop hurting for I am here, beside you._

_Anywhere you go, you know I'm there._

_Erik, you have set me free._

I'm now confused; was she here on this dreadful rock for the past 7 years? As if reading my mind, she cupped my cheek with her warm, delicate hand; her thumb rubbing against my bumpy flesh. "You've admitted that you've done wrong against our children. I've been waiting for such a long time. Thank you so much for letting me go." she smiled and began to fade.

No! She couldn't leave me, not yet! She had to see Charles, Dominique. She has to stay with me! "Christine, please, don't go! I love you so much."

"I know, my Erik, I know. I love you Angel." and with that, she was gone. The only thing that was left of her is the rose she had picked; it practically glowed in the moonlight.

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Walking back into the house, I decided that I wouldn't tell the children about what just happened. Instead, I would display the ghost-like rose in the living room and if they asked what it was, I will simply tell them that it had once belonged to their mother, which isn't really a lie; she had made the splendid flower!

As I looked inside Charles' room, my assumptions had been correct; he had fallen asleep while trying to find something to wear. Picking him up, I laid him down on his blue silk bed and gave him a soft kiss on his forehead. "Good-night, my son. Maman is watching over you, I promise." I smiled as he turned and nuzzled his face into the pillow, murmuring "Maman". He should have been out in the garden with me. He deserved to see her, to see the mother whom he never had a chance to see; except for the pictures that I have around the house.

Gently shutting the door, I tiptoed back to my room to find Dominique lying in the middle of the king-sized bed, her bony limbs spread out all over the place. Chuckling softly to myself, I laid down on the bed and pulled my daughter into the crook of my arm, sighing softly. How I ended up with two, kind, caring, and loving children is beyond me. Dominique has the tenderness of her mother, but held my fiery temper above most things. Charles has his mother's compassion, yet has my stubbornness when he doesn't get his way.

"Good-night, Dominique. May Maman watch you day and night." I whispered, kissing her forehead. Letting my head hit the pillow, I hadn't known that I would be so tired. Closing my eyes, I could have sworn that I felt a kiss upon my own forehead and her sweet voice filled my hazy mind, "Good-night, my family. I'm here for you always."

**So, there was one of the last chapters! The ending is kinda cheesy but I can't do anything about it! My muse commanded cheesyness! The reason why I had Christine coming back was because I had a dream the other night about the same thing, but my dream was long and it felt right to only have Christine in there for a few, short paragraphs. Review please! Erik appreciates them!**

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	4. To Their Graves, Please

**I'm so motivated right now! That last chapter got me all depressed, so I'm going to appeal to everyone's fluff-o-meter and right a happy epilogue. At least I'm going to make it fluffy. My version of fluff can be different from other people's version of fluff...whatever! I hope you all enjoy this because you now get to decide, after reading this of course, if you want another chapter or just leave it like it is and not touch a thing. Read and enjoy, people!**

**Come to Me**

**15 Years Later**

Two lone figures walked through a cemetery that lay on the outskirts of Paris. It was a snowy December morning, but they didn't care. All they wanted was to find the two headstones that meant the most to them. The oldest of the two laid her delicate, pale hand on her rounded stomach, wanting to cry as she felt the little one kick. Her mismatched golden eyes stung with tears at the thought about why they were here. Looking over at her brother, she saw the tears that streaked down his tan cheeks.

The youngest felt his sister's eyes boring in on him, probably wondering why he was sniveling like a child, but he didn't care. The most important person in his life was gone. That person had died peacefully in his sleep 2 years ago. Just coming near his headstone, he felt like he wanted to collapse and cry out all of his pain.

Placing a hand on his shoulder, the sister smiled warmly at her little brother and took his much larger trembling hand into hers. He had hands like their father; long, slim, and musical. Pushing a stray chestnut curl out of her face, she led them on through the thickly snow-covered land. She knew why her brother was crying; it was the anniversary of _his_ death. _He_ had been there when she could not. _He _taught them both to love unconditionally because you would never know when that love could be taken away.

As tradition, they brought a bouquet of thorn less roses with black ribbons tied around each one. _"This is how she liked them."_ he told them as they prepared them when they visited her. It seemed like that day 20 years ago happened only yesterday. She had died as soon as her brother was born. At least she got to say good-bye; something that her brother never go to do.

"Niquie, do you think Maman would've liked me?" he asked, breaking the comfortable silence between the two. He had always wanted to know if his maman loved him or not. He had been told that she had died soon after his birth, which he had always blamed on himself.

Dominique gave Charles a shocked look at the question. Would've Maman liked him or not? From what she remembered, Maman adored him for as long as she was alive! "My Charles, Maman loved you with all of her heart. And please stop blaming yourself for what happened."

"How do you know?" Charles asked, stunned at his sister's intuition.

"You used to cry about it when we were small; it's also written clearly on your face at the moment." Dominique giggled as Charles' face turned bright red; clashing with his white dress shirt and dark jacket. "Charles, Papa never told you how Maman died, did he?"

"No. Whenever I brought it up, his eyes watered and he would quickly change the subject." he responded with a heaviness that Dominique didn't know existed in him.

Sighing, Dominique knew that this was not going to be an easy story to tell; she had done the same thing to her brother, but not as obvious as Papa had done. "You know that Maman was very beautiful, right?" Charles nodded, " Well, she had a disease, it started with as 'c' but I was so little that I can't remember what it was called. Anyway, this disease slowly consumed her while she was pregnant with you. Originally, the docteur's prediction was that she would live a few months after your birth; he had predicted wrong. Her beauty began to fade rapidly, although Papa and I never thought any different of her; she was Maman and it didn't matter what she looked like. Along with her beauty, her health, her strength, and her wonderful dwindled down to almost nothing. She looked at you with so much love and adoration that you could nearly drown in it. She died with Papa and you by her side; I was standing by the door. I couldn't find the heart to enter while Papa was crying. Though, before she died, she sang a simple song that made her sound like the maman I loved."

Charles knew what that song was; it was engrained into his memory, even though no one had taught it to him.

_Father once spoke of you, my Angel._

_I used to dream you'd appear._

_Now as I lay here beside you,_

_Please don't mourn._

"Brother, where did you learn that?" Dominique whispered. She, or their papa, had ever taught him that song! _Is it you, Maman? _

Shrugging his shoulders, Charles just continued to walk; strands of his black, wavy hair blew with the breeze. The two walked in silence until they reached the headstones they were both dreading and hoping to find. The tears began to pool once again in his Charles eyes, but he hastily wiped them away. What would he think of him if he saw him crying? Surely he would be disappointed him for being so weak.

Dominique sniffed as a few tears escaped her own golden eyes; her hand going back to her stomach, finding comfort in her child's kicks. Suddenly, two arms wrapped around her chest. Two, warm, strong, familiar arms that she had always sought comfort in.

"Nadir." she whispered to her husband.

"My darling Dominique," he replied softly; his thick Persian accent made her want to giggle, "Sorry I wasn't here sooner. How are you and our little one doing?"

"He insists on kicking me constantly."

"How do you know he isn't going to be a she?" Charles asked quietly. He was excited to become an uncle and he was hoping that the child would be a girl; an exact replica of his loving sister.

"I just know. Now, enough bickering. Let's go say hello to Maman and Papa." Dominique smiled, accepting the offer of her husband's arm. Nadir Khan looked down at his wife of 5 years; he never grew tired of looking into her mismatched golden eye, stroking her brown curls, or her bell like laughter. The first time he laid eyes on her was when she made her debut as the Prima Donna of the Paris Opera House; her only accompaniment was Charles on the piano and her father playing the violin. She was so beautiful, so full of life; he fell for her immediately. Her father, Monsieur Erik, was wary at, not because he was Persian, but because he wasn't sure if he was ready for his daughter to begin courting yet. But, after a few dinners with the patient man, they soon became friends.

Charles on the other hand, not so much. Nadir could tell that he was jealous for taking his sister away from him; she was the only mother he had. At the beginning, the two boys never seemed to talk. The only time they did was when it was proper and polite to do so. Then the day came when he had found Charles crying in front of Madame Christine's grave. Nadir had originally came to tell the madame that he had just proposed to her daughter and he thought she deserved to know. Most of Charles' words were incoherent, but his sorrow was clearly visible. At first, Charles had tried desperately to defend himself, saying that he wasn't crying, but his big brown eyes showed it clearly. The two sat before the marble grave for hours, just simply talking. To simply put things, Charles was the best man at the wedding.

Charles smiled warmly at his sister; she always seemed to be so cheerful, no matter what happened. Even when Papa had died, she remained calm and collected. He always thought it was because she had witnessed Maman's death that she was able to take it, but he had been wrong. Dominique, at the time, was pregnant with her first child, but she had suffered a miscarriage at the same time Father had passed peacefully in his sleep. She had locked herself in her room for days after the funeral. Nadir couldn't even get her out!

Now, as he stood in front of his papa's grave, Charles couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sadness well up inside him. Since he had no real mother, he always looked up to his father; to teach him, to love him, to care for him. He had taught him everything he knew. The day he died, he had been complaining that he was tired and wished to get some rest. "I'll see you all when I wake up." but he never did. Charles was the one who had found him, wondering why his father was taking such a long rest. Finding him lying in his bed, looking so peaceful, he could have sworn that he was sleeping, but his chest neither rose nor fell. They had buried him next to Maman; it rained all day. Charles had never felt so alone after he died. He of course had his sister, but she had her own family and problems to worry about. That was until he found Joanna. They had met when Charles was watching the ballerinas practicing at the opera when she had fallen and twisted her ankle. After helping her with her ankle, the two had begun seeing each other more and more. She was an orphan who had been taken in by his Aunt Meg and was being taught ballet. She had beautiful corn-silk hair, violet eyes, and fair skin. He had proposed just last weekend.

Dominique bent over, as well as a pregnant woman could, and split the roses up. Half for her maman and half for her papa. "Hello, Maman, Papa. It's just me, Charles and Nadir,"

"Don't forget my soon-to-be niece." Charles butted in, laughing as Dominique smacked him playfully.

"Anyway, it's Papa's birthday today and we all wanted to wish you a happy birthday. That, and this is the last time I'll be visiting for awhile. My due date is just a few weeks away!" she squealed, wrapping her slender arms around her husband. She truly wished that her maman was there to help her. To give her tips on how to properly raise a child. Yes, she did help raise child, but this was _her_ child they were talking about! She had her papa's help raising Charles and now, she had no one but her loving Nadir and her dear brother.

"We also wanted to come by and say bonjour to you too, Madame," Nadir said, being as respectful as possible, "I've heard many great things about you. You have an amazing daughter and son. I'm sorry we haven't met earlier."

"You mean you don't count the time you found me?" Charles interrupted. He and Nadir were now practically brothers and when Nadir had found him at his mother's grave, he thought for sure that Nadir had tried to talk to her.

"I don't because I was there to comfort you, my friend. Besides, this is my first formal meeting with your mother. And I'm very glad to see you once again, monsieur. We've all missed you terribly since you left us."

"We have missed you, Father. And I wish to thank you, Maman, for always watching over us. I'm also sorry for not visiting in such a long time; I'm engaged now! Can you believe it?" Charles smiled broadly at the thought of his graceful Joanna waiting for him at her flat. "As scandalous as it sounds, she's pregnant too"

A gasp escaped Dominique's lips, "Where has my innocent Charles gone to?" As usual, he just merely shrugged it off and listened carefully to the wind rustling through the trees; it almost sounded like someone, or something, was singing through them.

"We all love you very much and we will visit again as soon as possible." Dominique whispered quietly, a stray tear rolling down her cheek. Wiping the tear away, Dominique softly sang,

_She alone could make his song take flight._

_Only they could make the music of the night._

And with that, the small group who had entered the cemetery made their way out of the dreary, cold place, but not before they had caught a glimpse of a gorgeous young woman with chestnut curls that bounced with every step; her full, red lips spread out into a smile. And a handsome man, with a familiar deformed cheek, held her around her waist; his thick black hair tickled the girl's nose.

"We love you, too." they whispered and quickly walked off; their figures fading with each and every step.

**Okay, this is totally optional: do you want another chapter that will reveal what Dominique's baby will be or Charles' wedding or just leave like it is? I want your honest opinions on this story! It's fluffy with a tinge of angst in there, which really is never a bad thing to have in there. I honestly do love the reviews and I know that the chapters are dreadfully short, I should know, I write them, but I try to make them as enjoyable as possible. Erik will give you big hugs if you review!**

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